


Enough

by glacis



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark has had enough, and does something about it (what he SHOULD have done).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

_Enough. Spoilers for Shattered._

“I could have been killed, Clark!”

True.  But she hadn’t.  She’d gotten a broken leg, and a bad scare.  Bad enough to make her want to distance herself from him, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

She was very different from Chloe.  Lionel threatened Chloe, in a real and dangerous way, but Chloe wouldn’t back off.  She kept coming, kept digging, and kept believing in Lex, and by extension, in Clark.  Contrary to what Lana seemed to believe, the world really didn’t revolve around her.

Because Lex could have been killed, too.  Edge certainly tried.  And maybe what happened to Lex was worse, in a way.  Gas-lighted by his own father.  Having the one person in the world he should be able to trust prey on his weakness instead of helping him cope; of course, this was a pattern with Lionel, but he’d taken it to the extreme this time.  Drugging Lex, hurting him, going to so much trouble and expense to make him think he was losing his mind, isolating him, then locking him up in a madhouse.  Clark had overheard quite a bit before he’d intervened.  So, Lionel didn’t want to lose another son, huh?  Well, this wasn’t about Lionel.  This was about Lex, the son he’d destroyed rather than ‘lose.’

"God damn Lionel to hell."  The words echoed in the loft.

“Clark!” his mother gasped behind him.  Clark hadn’t heard her come up the stairs.  He’d been too deeply in thought.

“It’s where he belongs,” Clark turned to her, unrepentant.

“Honey,” she started to say.  He interrupted her, not caring about being rude when something so important wasn’t being heard, no matter how many times he said it.

“Lex was drugged!  He was deliberately terrified literally out of his mind, and Lionel’s the one who did it!”

He could tell by her face she didn’t believe him, and it made him unbelievably angry.  For once, he didn’t rage.  Instead, his voice got deadly quiet as he told her, “I beat it out of the security guard.  Darius.  One of the people Lex should have been able to trust.  I heard his psychiatrist admit to it, another person Lex should have been able to trust.  Edge told the truth about what happened, because he knew otherwise he was going to die, and he had no reason to lie.”

Clark didn’t know when he’d risen to his feet, but he had, because he was inches away from his mother, whose eyes were huge, staring up at him.  “I went to find Lex, but before I got there, I heard Lionel come in.  So I hid and I heard the doctor tell Lionel that she's going to systematically destroy Lex’s short term memory.  She’s going to keep drugging him until he doesn’t know who he is anymore.  Because Lionel ordered her to!

“Well, son,” came Jonathan’s reasonable voice from a little way down the stairs.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  Lex knows your secret now, and who knows what he’ll do –“

“Damn you!” Clark yelped, shocking both his parents into silence.  “Is that all you can think about?  My secret?  Our secret?  A man can die, like Nixon did, or be destroyed by his own father, like my best friend is being, right now, and all you can say is okay, then, at least he won’t remember my secret?”  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “And I thought I was inhuman.”

As he sped past them, he could feel them shake.  He didn’t know if it was because of his speed or their own emotions.  Right then, he didn’t care.  He’d had enough.

It was time to make his choice, the one he’d subconsciously made two days before.  He was going to go get Lex out of hell.  And the rest of them could go to hell in his place.  He’d had enough of secrets, and lies, and hurting the people he cared about to protect his almighty secret.

Because if this was what it took to keep his secret, if this was what it meant his life would become, he’d rather not live it at all.

For the first time since he’d thrown away the red Kryptonite, Clark allowed himself to act without questioning his instincts.  He didn’t run immediately to Lex; the most pressing threat was Lionel, and if Lex disappeared from the sanitarium before Lionel was taken care of, suspicion would fall on Lex.  And Clark wasn’t going to let anything else hurt Lex.  Ever again.

So he moved, faster than he’d ever run, until he wasn’t even a blur as he passed, only a lash of wind.  He didn’t remember getting past the security at LutherCorp, but they certainly didn’t see him.  The secretary and security in the foyer on the top floor likewise didn’t see him; neither did the executive assistant in the outer office.  Not even Lionel saw him.

Lionel alone felt him.

Faster than the human eye or sophisticated security systems could follow, Clark blew across the office to where Lionel stood, staring gloomily out the plate glass window.  Clark never slowed down.  He hit Lionel and kept running, stilling only when he heard the body land on the pavement fifty floors below.

Only then did he realize that he was hovering in the air.  Oddly enough, his fury was so strong it didn’t dawn on him that he shouldn’t be able to fly.  All he knew was what he saw, which was the dead enemy on the ground, the threat finally eliminated.

Now to Lex.  He turned mid-air, one hand clenching against his chest, the other instinctively arrowing out before him, and sliced through the sky even faster than he’d run.  In moments, he was above the grim prison that was Belle Reve.

Once there, he stilled, staring through concrete and rock and barbed wire, down into the cell where Lex rocked, bound in a straightjacket, feet bare, head bowed.  As he watched, the traitorous psychiatrist placed a syringe in a case and patted Lex’s shoulder with spurious sympathy.  Clark wanted to kill her.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he heard her whisper.  She sounded heartbroken.  As she should.

An instant later, Clark was on the ground, a breeze barely felt by the guards and orderlies as he sped through the maze of corridors down to the maximum security wing.  In elegant lettering above the door the euphemism ‘Private Ward’ was posted.  Clark would have laughed if he wasn’t too close to killing anything that moved between himself and Lex.

Still in the shadows, he watched as the petite doctor left the padded cell.  He narrowed his eyes at the expression on her face.

The tears on her cheeks.

The sound of a cell phone was obscenely loud in the echoing corridor.  The woman sniffed, shook her head hard and pulled the phone from her pocket.  “Yes?” she answered.

Her body stiffened.  “Dead?  Are you certain?”  A pause as she listened, then quietly, “A suicide.  So guilt finally caught up with his soul.”  A peep from the phone, and she said more loudly, “Nothing important.  Yes, I know what I’m supposed to do now.”

She closed the phone without saying goodbye, then said to what she thought was the empty corridor, “But I won’t.  That boy has suffered more than enough.  I’m not going to put him down like a rabid dog.”

“No,” Clark told her fiercely, “you won’t.”

Her eyes widened, but to her credit she barely flinched.  “You’re his friend,” she said urgently.  “Are you willing to help him?”

Surprised and a little unnerved, Clark stared at her.  “That’s why I’m here,” he told her roughly.

“Good.”  She flipped through the chart cradled in her left arm.  “These are release papers.  I’m releasing Lex into your custody.”  She scrawled her signature at the bottom of the page.  “Get him away from here.  Get him clean.  Don’t let him come back to Metropolis until he can protect himself.”

“What about you?” Clark asked, curiosity overwhelming hostility for the moment.  It looked like she wasn’t going to get in his way.  So he wouldn’t have to hurt her.  “Lionel must have had something on you to get you to help him hurt Lex.  Or did you do it for the money?”  The last words dripped scorn.

“Blackmail,” she answered succinctly, “but that doesn’t matter now.  He’s dead, and he’s not going to hurt me,” she glanced over her shoulder, “or Lex any more.”

“You’re right about that,” Clark agreed.

She gave him a sharp look, but she didn’t ask.  She probably had her suspicions on Lionel’s so-called suicide, but she’d take them with her to the grave.  She gave Clark a hard-edged smile.

He returned one that was even harder.

She turned on her heel and went to the cell.  Clark practically stood on her heels as they walked inside.  Lex was curled into an uncomfortable ball, his face blank, his eyes fixed on something neither of them could see.  He was singing a lullaby under his breath.

Clark wanted to break something.  Wanted to cry.  Wanted to kill Lionel all over again.

The buckles on the constraints left marks on Lex’s arms, even through the thick cotton of the jacket.  His hands were cold to the touch, and Clark rubbed them, murmuring nonsense, not paying attention to anything he was saying as all his attention was fixed on Lex.  The doctor eased Lex into a hooded jacket and shoes she got from somewhere.  Clark didn’t notice.  Lex’s eyes freaked him out.

There was so much pain behind the emptiness.

Twenty minutes later they were outside.  Lex couldn’t walk, but that wasn’t a problem.  Clark carried him as easily as if he was a baby.  And as gently.

“Where’s your car?” the doctor asked.

“Hidden a ways from this place,” Clark lied.  “It’s okay.  I’ve got him.”

Worried dark eyes stared up at him.  She placed a copy of the release order in the pocket of his jacket.  “I’ll file this and make sure he’s clear.  Take care of him, Clark.”

He nodded.  Of course he would.  He looked down at the pale face, the shadowed eyes now staring through him, framed by the grey knit hood.  Lex was all he had.  Clark had made his choice, and Lex was more than enough.

It was an effort to restrain his speed until he was out of sight of the hospital, but he did it.  As soon as they were unobserved, Clark tucked Lex closely against himself, head beneath his chin, skin protected by denim and cotton and Clark’s own body, and ran.

Sped up.

Flew.

A year ago Lex had told him about a ranch in Montana his mother used to own, making Clark curious.  He’d gone to the library, done some searching, gotten interested, and learned what he could, still stuck in Kansas.  Now that research came back to him, and he found himself flying north and east, over the Rocky Mountains, over the Missouri River, past forest land and tall snowy peaks.  He soon came to a lake that looked quiet, private, further north than the touristy places or the population centers, with only a rough dirt road leading to it.  Concentrating his vision, he saw through the trees what looked like a hunting cabin.

It was falling to pieces, but it had a roof, and furniture of sorts, and a fireplace.  Clark settled Lex on the remains of the couch, pausing to chafe his cold fingers and gently rub his cold face.

A quick punch-through with a long stick, and the birds’ nests were gone from the chimney.  Clark ignored the loud indignant squawking and built a fire at superhuman speed.  A glare from heat vision had it roaring in no time.

“Clark,” Lex croaked behind him.

Instantly, Clark was beside him.  “Lex!  You’re awake!”

Lex grimaced, his throat working.

“Don’t talk,” Clark told him, putting a finger across his lips.  “Let me get something for your throat.”

It was amazing how fast he could move when he was really motivated.  All that snow and ice came in handy, too.  Less than a minute after he left he was back, not bothering to hide anything from Lex, crushing a thick icicle in his hand to offer Lex the chips that remained.

Lex stared at him, eyes huge.

“You’re safe now,” Clark coaxed him, gently pushing an ice chip at his lips.  “Please.  You’re going to be okay.  I’ll take care of you.  I’m sorry.  You’re safe."

Lex’s eyes gradually narrowed, then his face relaxed into the slightest grin.  He opened his mouth and took the ice chip, then another, until he shook his head.  Clark stared at the ice now melting in his palm.  He couldn’t look at Lex.

Lex cleared his throat.

Clark stared at the cold water dripping off his fingers.

Barely-warm fingers caught his chin and pushed his face up.  The force wasn’t nearly enough to move Clark if Clark hadn’t wanted to be moved, but he couldn’t deny Lex.  He glanced up through his lashes.  Lex looked at him for the longest moment.  Clark couldn’t move, caught by that stare.  Measured by it.

For once, not found wanting.

The fingers at his chin tugged, and Clark leaned forward.  Lex didn’t say a word.  He simply watched Clark until Clark was too close to see, then kissed him.

To Clark, it felt like he’d come home, for the first time since he’d found out he wasn’t human.  Lex’s mouth was cool beneath his, tongue chilled from the ice, but his breath was warm, and Clark kissed him back.  Gently, firmly, deeply enough to taste the metallic tang of drugs and blood, until he could hear Lex struggling to breathe through his nose, and backed away far enough for Lex to get some air.

“Safe?” Lex asked, voice still rusty.

“Yes,” Clark assured him.  “Sleep now.  I’ll keep you safe.”

Lex did, astonishing Clark.  After so much, knowing so much, Lex was still willing to trust him.  Or maybe he was just too exhausted not to let go.  Clark thought about it, as he wrapped himself around Lex, warming him with his own body heat.  Lex hadn’t allowed himself to rest in the sanitarium.  Hadn’t rested around Lana, or Chloe.  Only around Clark.  That had to mean something.

The next few days passed in a blur.  Clark darted out during the night, no more than five minutes at a time while Lex was sleeping, but five minutes was a long time when moving at super-speed.  He concentrated on survival and didn’t let the details bother him, as he took out an ATM in Missoula, another in Helena, gathered bedding and clothes in Billings, food and medical supplies from Bozeman.  Between watching over Lex and stocking up on supplies, he fixed the cabin, using trees he snapped and stripped with his hands, pitch he melted with his sight, melding the shingles on the roof with sheer force that turned rock to diamond-hard sheets.  By the time a week had passed, the derelict cabin was a warm, sturdy hideaway, comfortable and well-provisioned; they had a small stash of cash for emergencies; and nobody knew they were there.

Most importantly of all, Lex came back to himself.

His periods of lucidity were longer as he grew stronger, resting, eating, sleeping, throwing off the effects of the drugs.  It would have amazed Clark more if he hadn’t already had a suspicion that Lex was a meteor mutant.  No one would have survived what Lex had in the first couple years he’d spent in Smallville if he hadn’t had unearthly healing abilities.  The only thing that worried Clark was how quiet Lex was.

After the first conversation, such as it was, and that incredible kiss, Lex had withdrawn into himself.  He watched Clark constantly, any time he was awake, but he didn’t say anything.  Conversation was practically non-existent.  Most followed the same pattern.

“How are you doing, Lex?”

Silence.

“Are you warm enough?”

A shrug.

“Are you hungry?”

A nod.  Lex would eat what Clark cooked for him, then close his eyes and sleep.

The first time Clark tried to help Lex to the bathroom, Lex growled at him, so much like a pissed-off dog it was kind of scary.  Clark didn’t try to talk to him, just helped him into the tiny bathroom and helped him back to the couch when he was done.  Clark tried not to get in his way, tried not to bother him too much, tried not to touch him too often.

Of course, it was a lost cause.  Clark could no more stop touching Lex than he could make the sun come up in the west.  Oddly enough for all his temper and unwillingness to talk, Lex didn’t shy away from Clark’s touch.  On the contrary.  He leaned into it.  Seemed to need it almost as much as Clark did.

That was the only comfort Clark had in that long silent week.

Clark was cooking chicken stew, mild enough for Lex’s stomach but with all the good stuff in it chicken soup was supposed to have, when Lex startled him so badly he nearly dropped the wooden spoon.

“Where are we?”

Spinning around so fast he made himself dizzy, and made Lex blink, Clark beamed at Lex.

“Your voice sounds great!  How’s your throat?  Are you feeling better?”

Stupid questions, really, because Lex was sitting up, blanket wrapped around him until he looked like a human burrito, clear eyes boring holes right through Clark’s face.  Clark felt his beaming grin falter.  Lex wasn’t saying anything.

Oh.  Right.  Probably because Clark wasn’t answering him.  Clark blushed, cleared his throat, and waved the spoon around absently.  “[Kintla Lake](glacis/minehtml/kintla.jpeg), um, in Montana, a little way south of the Canadian border.”

Lex raised an eyebrow at him.  Clark wanted to kiss him.  This time he managed to restrain himself.  Barely.

“I know where it is,” Lex said softly.  “It’s not far from where Mom’s ranch was.”

The beam was back.  Clark knew he looked like an idiot, grinning fit to bust, but he couldn’t help it.  Lex was back.  Lex was talking to him.

“What are you?” Lex asked in a perfectly even voice, nothing but the most objective curiosity in it.

It was Clark’s turn to blink.  But this time he didn’t back down.  He reached behind him to drop the spoon on the saucer sitting by the stove and walked toward Lex, carefully, watchfully.

“I’m your friend.”  Lex didn’t laugh, so Clark kept going.  “I’m not human, you were right about that.  Do you remember when you said that?”  Clark stopped a foot or so from the couch.  Lex looked up at him.

“It was right after you saved my life.  Again.”

Clark swallowed.  His throat felt tight, and he knew he had tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.  Refused to admit how close he’d been to losing Lex, and how much that scared him.  Then realized he was an idiot for that refusal, and told Lex exactly what he’d been thinking.

“I didn’t know until after you hit me at the bridge,” he added.  “My parents had kept my secret so well they hadn’t even told me.  In the last couple years I’ve been figuring out as I go along.  I know I came from a planet called Krypton, that was destroyed in some kind of catastrophe.  I’m the only one of my people left.  And I’m trying as hard as I can to be as human as possible, because this is the only home I’ve got.”

Lex stared at him silently.  Only then did Clark realize that, not only was he crying, but sometime during the narrative he’d ended up on his knees next to the couch, his hands clenched together an inch from Lex’s own, bunched in his lap.  Clearing his throat again, Clark finished saying what he had to say.

“You’re my family now, Lex.  I chose you.  I believed you, I fought for you, I did what I had to do to save you, and I trust you with everything I am, everything I’ve done.  I lied for a long time because I was scared, or maybe because my parents were scared, I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter any more, because I trust you with my secrets more than I trust anyone on this earth, including my parents.  They were willing to sacrifice everything, even you, to keep my secret.”  He shook his head.  “I wasn’t willing to lose you.  Better to lose myself than to lose you.”  He couldn’t believe he’d actually said it.

From the look in Lex’s eyes, neither could he.  After a moment that felt like a millennium, Lex reached over and covered Clark’s hands with his.

“I love you, too, Clark.”

Clark choked.  Lex grinned at him.  An honest-to-god grin that showed dimples.  Clark coughed until he could breathe again.  Lex dimmed the grin down to a serious half-smile and asked, “What did you do?”

Clark had to gulp before he could say it, and even then it was barely a whisper.  “I killed your father.”

Lex didn’t look shocked, which shocked Clark in turn.

“I figured as much,” Lex told him quietly.  “Or I’d still be in the nuthouse getting shot up six times a day with hallucinogens until my brain was oatmeal.  How come the police aren’t after you?”

“Looked like suicide,” Clark stuttered, still in shock at Lex’s calm acceptance.

“That’s helpful.  Does anyone know where we are?  Where I am?  Did you break me out of the sanitarium?”  The questions came faster, the tone harder, and Clark answered automatically.

“I didn’t tell anybody.  Mom and Dad know I left but don’t know where we went.  I didn’t have to break you out; the doctor that Lionel was blackmailing into institutionalizing you signed the papers to release you to my custody, so everybody knows by now that you’re with me, but they don’t know where we are.”

Lex absently patted Clark’s hands.  They were still cool in comparison to Clark’s internal heat, but the strength was back in them.  Clark found himself staring at those hands.

“That gives us time,” Lex mused.  Clark listened with half his attention, the rest caught on the contrast between Lex’s hands and his own.  “If I play it right, I can take over without a fight.  Cover up everything that needs to be covered up.”  His fingers tightened on Clark’s.  “Keep you safe.  Keep us safe.”

Clark leaned down and rested his cheek against Lex’s hands.

“It will be a challenge, but now that I’m in my right mind, and now that I have an ally I can trust,” Clark felt Lex’s gaze on the back of his head, it was so heavy, “we can make this work.  Find the best way to claim my inheritance… and figure out what to do with yours.”  Lex continued to think aloud, laying out plans, schemes to undo the damage Lionel had done, to resume power, to protect himself, to protect Clark.

Relief swept through Clark.  It was going to be okay.  Lex would know what to do to make it all right.  And Clark would do what he had to do to make sure Lex was all right.  He turned his head and kissed Lex’s knuckles.

Lex’s voice broke off.  Clark froze.  Lex turned one hand to cup Clark’s cheek.  Clark nuzzled it.

“Ah, shit, Clark,” Lex murmured, making it sound like an endearment.  Then he slid his hand under Clark’s chin and raised his head up.  Clark followed willingly.  Lex smiled at him again, that funny off-center grin, then leaned down and kissed him.

It was softer than the first time, no less deep, comfortable in a way Clark never would have expected.  He moved with instinct again, the caresses that had felt so out of place with all those girls in Metropolis feeling completely right with Lex.

Clark had always felt so restrained with Lana, afraid to show her the truth, afraid of his own strength.  Afraid in a very real way to actually touch her.  With Lex, he wasn’t afraid at all.  He was too overwhelmed by need, too thankful that Lex was there, was alive and whole and his, too hungry to hold back.  Lex knew him, knew what he was and hadn’t run away or turned on him or rejected him.

It was so much more than enough Clark didn’t know how to handle it.  So he gave up trying to think, and let Lex lead the way.

Strength was mitigated by adoration, although Clark wasn’t consciously aware of either, and Lex met both with equal measures of his own.  The tensile heat of muscle beneath Lex’s soft skin, the length of bone and breadth of body beneath Clark, surrounded him and pulled him under.

Not that he struggled.

Clark cupped Lex’s face with both hands, careful of the faded bruises and healing abrasions, dropping kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, the scar on his top lip, the fullness of the bottom lip, the angle of jaw, the length of throat, the hard bump of a collarbone, the muscular chest, too thin now but still warm and strong and real under Clark’s exploring hands.  It rose and fell irregularly as Lex panted for breath, fascinating Clark, drawing his mouth to taste and his fingers to touch.

Burrowing under the blanket was a challenge, as were the buttons and zipper and thermal barriers in the way, but soon Clark had Lex’s skin laid out before him, and it was exactly what he needed.  Exactly what he’d dreamed about, even if he hadn’t allowed himself to remember those dreams when he was awake.  But now that it was here, and it was real, his body remembered what his mind had tried to forget, and his hands followed the paths they’d only traveled before in his most secret dreams.

Hands pushed at him, getting in the way, but it was Lex, so Clark worked around it.  He only realized his shirt was off and his jeans were pushed down to his ankles when Lex wriggled beneath him and rubbed naked skin against naked skin from his knees all the way up to his shoulders.

Incredible.  If there was a heaven it had to be this.  Lex’s mouth biting Clark’s neck, Lex’s arm around Clark’s waist, Lex’s fingers wrapped around Clark’s cock, Lex’s legs entangled with his own.  Heat and light and home and yes, they were safe, because they were together, and it would always be like that, Clark thought, as he came in Lex’s hand, then couldn’t think at all.

Not that it stopped there.  Lex kept stroking him, coating him with his own mess, and Clark stayed hard, because Lex wanted him that way.  The world shifted and Clark was on his back, not knowing how he got there, not caring, because Lex was sprawled on top of him, straddling him, touching him, touching himself, and the look of pained concentration on Lex’s face was so unexpected Clark snapped to attention.

“What…” he tried to ask, then realized before he could get the question out exactly what Lex was doing.  Hand down between his thighs, wrist bend, muscles in his arm working, mouth slightly open, eyes nearly closed but still pinning Clark in place.  Heat there, so hot for a crazy moment Clark wondered if Lex had heat vision too, and wondered if that might be the one fire he couldn’t withstand.

Then Lex shifted, took hold of him, sat down on him, slowly worked down onto him, and Clark was screaming or suffocating, he couldn’t tell which.  The concentration was still there on Lex’s face, but the pain was changing into pleasure, mirroring Clark’s own.  It was impossible, it was fantastic, it was insane.

It was right.

Lex moved on him, hands splayed across Clark’s chest, burning more than Jor-El’s scar ever had, but Clark moved into this, wanted this, never wanted to escape it.  Lex’s body was warm and tight around him, squeezing him, holding him, taking him as much if not more than Clark was taking Lex.  It was a good thing he’d come already once, because he needed all the restraint he could find.  He never wanted this to end.

But Lex was shaking, his eyes getting wilder, and Clark knew he had to end it before Lex reached the end of his strength.  They would have time for more, later, when Lex was fully recovered; time to test boundaries and break them.  Right now, it was enough, to be together, to come together like this.  Clark raised a shaking hand and covered Lex’s leaking cock, milking it, gently enough not to hurt, hard enough to send him over the edge.

Send them both over the edge.

The sensation was indescribable, as Lex came, tightening around him, grinding down on him, back arched, head thrown back, the thinnest cry coming from his throat.  Clark whimpered in response, unable to do more, feeling the hot liquid splash over his knuckles, feeling his own balls draw up and spurting into Lex, come and sweat and skin and shaking and nothing left when it was all over but Lex’s weight heavy against him and peace.

All he’d ever need.

More than enough.

END


End file.
